Had they still been at Hogwarts, they would have never gotten here. She knew that. He would have never let himself love her. She would have never let herself even entertain the thought. Their love was circumstantial. She couldn’t say anything about fate. That meant it was theirs to end at any time. There were no stars up in the sky designated for them, telling them it would be good enough to last forever.
She was on shift with Ron. He began to chuckle under his breath, his face obscured by the darkness.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I was just thinking about how we got here." He moved in his spot, shifting some leaves. "Where would we be without the war?" he asked. He turned to her. "Where would you and Malfoy be without the war? Do you know?"
She didn’t say anything. She pictured them with their Heads badges. They would have parted ways without ever knowing the depths of how much they could care about each other. She watched an alternate history play out before her: he would’ve married another Pureblood aristocrat. She would have read about it in the papers. Never would she have wondered if the way he kissed her would’ve felt anything like relief, or like the books she’d read as a child.
She would’ve been happy letting him be one-dimensional. She wouldn’t have known any better.
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